


Hardly a Wildman

by Fyre



Series: His Master's Son [2]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, An Inward Treasure, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-15
Updated: 2012-06-15
Packaged: 2017-11-07 19:30:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/434576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fyre/pseuds/Fyre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When his father returns from the shipyards and hears that his son has been dashing about the woods like a drunken wildman, Bellamy has the strangest impression that he is in trouble. </p><p>Follow-on to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/428632">Strange Little Bugger</a> and a missing scene between chapters 21 and 23 of <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/409866/chapters/679810">An Inward Treasure</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Hardly a Wildman

**Author's Note:**

> And so, Rufee, dearie, we made a deal. Now, I uphold my end of it ;) And this was meant to be short...

Bellamy did not like to feel that he was in trouble.

It was an uncomfortable sensation, rare enough that he recognised it by a very prickle in the air. His absence when his father returned from the shipyards was partly to blame, he had no doubt, though they had not yet had a chance to talk. The looks cast at him over the supper table were enough to make him wary of his father’s wrath. 

His father’s attentions to Isabelle, however, meant that Bellamy was left to stew in his own juices unreproached, and that only made matters worse.

His father had a gift for discomfiting anyone who crossed him, and when Bellamy had disappointed him in the past, his grim countenance was sufficient to warn against such continued failure. 

It was not until late the next morning that one of the footmen appeared at his door and advised him that his father requested his presence. He had avoided breakfast, lest father’s barbed tongue make ready meat of him, but there could be no refusing such an order.

He attired himself suitably, then made his way to his father’s study.

His father was sitting at his desk, poring over one of a dozen thick ledgers, and waved to a seat distractedly. Bellamy sat down on the very edge. He felt as he had as a schoolboy, when he had been caught at mischief.

Several minutes passed before his father looked up. “You are recovered from your chill?”

“Hardly a chill, father,” Bellamy replied. “Only a little sniffle.”

His father leaned back in his seat, steepling his fingers before him. “And what, pray, had you dashing about in the woods like a wild man?”

Bellamy’s cheeks darkened against his wishes. “Hardly a wild man, father,” he said. “Isabelle and Grandmama were being quite sharp at one another, and you know how cutting feminine sharpness might be.”

His father snorted. “Aye, that I know,” he said, “but that does not explain why you remained in the woods, no doubt in the company of our noble groundskeeper for the night.”

“I was drunk,” Bellamy said, and he knew at once he had answered a little too quickly. He met his father’s eyes, laughed as if his heart was not pounding like a marching drum, and shrugged. “I could barely stand, let alone walk. Rab was hospitable enough to let me shelter in his home.”

His father laced his fingers together, tapping the balls of his thumbs against once another, his expression unreadable. “And that was all that happened?” he said, leaving Bellamy feeling quite sick with nervousness. It was not possible that his father suspected what had truly happened. Such a thing was not only demmed improper, but utterly against the law.

“What else would have happened?” Bellamy said with his best smile. “I had drunk half a bottle of claret when he found me dozing beneath a tree. I suspect I would have been quite hypothermic if he had not found me.”

“Then I am glad he did.” His father sat up a little straighter, and leaned over the desk, selecting one folder, than another. “However, that is not the reason I asked you to come here, my lad. We have business that needs attended to.”

Bellamy stared at him, knowing at once what he spoke of. “Already?”

His father’s expression softened. “You know you were not meant to be here anyway, Bay,” he said. “Your place is making the law dance and twist, and you could do that while keeping two women from one another’s throats.”

“They are hardly that any longer,” Bellamy said with a rueful smile. “I heard they had gone walking today, together.”

His father grimaced. “Indeed,” he said. “They seem to get along quite well now.”

Bellamy rolled his eyes. “You know Grandmama is not so terrible as you imply,” he said, lacing his hands over his belly. “You and she have been throwing rocks at one another so long, you neglect that you are not so dissimilar.”

His father made a dismissive gesture with one hand. “That is no never mind,” he said. “My concern comes to matters in town. You know that we cannot allow the situation to spin out of our control, and we cannot control it while we are both playing house here.”

“And you cannot drag your wife hither and yon, until it is resolved,” Bellamy agreed quietly.

He could not be sure what pained him more: the knowledge that his home was truly that for the first time in decades, or that he had someone here whom he did not want to leave behind, for the simplest of reasons, human affection.

“You must return at once,” his father murmured. “I have received correspondence from town, and I fear matters may be problematic.” He rose from his chair and paced the floor. “I know we have people there to work on matters, but this is something I would only trust to you, Bay.”

Bellamy looked at him. “We have a dozen lawyers who would jump should we call.”

“Lawyers who act on the payment of the highest bidder,” his father replied, pausing by the mantle. He laid his hand against the gleaming marble. “Bay, who can I trust better if not mine own son? Your knowledge of the law surpasses many of them, and I know you would protect my interests more than my gold ever could impel them to.”

Bellamy’s cheeks flamed. “Father,” he protested self-consciously.

His father looked at him. “I would not drive you from your home,” he said quietly, “but she must be protected, and you are the one skilled enough to do so.”

Bellamy nodded, rising from the chair. “I would not leave tonight,” he said, knowing he would need time enough to make his farewells, “I would need time to prepare for travel. Would it be early enough to depart in the morning?”

“By which means would you travel?” his father asked.

“Coach to Edinburgh, then take a ship,” Bellamy said at once. “You know I find riding such distances demmed uncomfortable.”

“Quite so, quite so,” his father said. He approached and beckoned his son towards the desk and the broad scatter of documents and files. “Come, we have much to prepare before your departure, my boy.”

It took some number of hours to go through all the paperwork that had accumulated. Bellamy’s mind was quite full of it by the time his father dismissed him to dress for dinner, and he only hoped he might be able to slip away while both his father and new stepmother were distracted. 

It was comforting to know that Isabelle also lamented his departure, though he was privately pleased when she was excused from dinner to bathe. From the look in his father’s eyes, Bellamy knew she would very likely find herself distracted from her bathing in due course.

Really, it was quite ridiculous how doe-eyed father was being about the woman.

Charming, but entirely ridiculous.

As soon as he had excused himself from the table, he made as if returning to his chambers, but instead slipped down the servant’s corridors and made his way out into the gardens. He knew all the secrets of the hall well enough to get about unnoticed, and as ungainly as it was to run, he did so in the direction of the woods.

Only once he was within the shelter of the trees did he stop, catch his breath, then turn himself in the direction of Rab’s lodge, some short distance away. He rapped on the door, and when there was no reply, slipped inside.

The small house was warm, and scent of furs and game were sharp reminders of the man Bellamy had come to find. He walked in a slow circuit of the room, warm colour rising in his cheeks as he remembered the heady heated kisses he had exchanged with his long-time friend and now his lover.

A coat was draped over the back of the single wooden chair and Bellamy gathered it in his hands, inhaling the scent. Moss, peat-smoke, even metallic tangs of blood. A thousand scents, every one of which would remind him of Rab.

The door creaked open behind him, and he turned sharply, the coat still in his hands.

Rab was standing in the doorway, a couple of rabbits slung over his shoulder. “Master Bay?”

Bellamy’s mouth felt suddenly dry. It was all very well speaking of lovers and fornication by darkness and firelight, but it was another entirely to stand by the light of day and ask his lover to hold him once more before he departed.

The rabbits were deposited on the broad table, and Rab approached him in three quick steps, concern all over his face. “Is something wrong?”

Bellamy licked his lips, then said quietly, “I must return to London.”

A dozen emotions warred on Rab’s face. “Oh. Aye, right enough,” he said, turning away to shed his coat. He went back to the door, pulling off his heavy boots and setting them to the side. “You have the season, do you not?”

“It is not the season that forces my hand,” Bellamy said, putting down Rab’s coat. “I am to play advocate for mama. There is trouble brewing in town, and father would have me be the one to deal with it.”

“Keeping her safe here?” Rab said, turning back to face him. 

Bellamy nodded. “Until it is either remedied or quashed,” he murmured. He hesitated, then took one faltering step, then another, towards Rab. “I must leave in the morning.”

Rab gazed at him. “Should you not be spending the evening with your family?”

Bellamy swallowed hard. “I would spend it with you,” he said quietly, looking hopefully at the other man.

Rab’s hand was in his hair and he was pulled into a kiss that was bruising in its intensity. He grasped at Rab’s arms, pulling him closer, and he groaned in pleasure as Rab’s mouth moved off his, down his throat, marking him all over again. His cravat was ripped off, his high collar torn aside, and he sank his fingers into Rab’s hair.

His waistcoat was gone in a matter of moments, and he all but swore aloud when his shirt was plucked open and Rab’s mouth moved on his chest, kissing, biting, licking and tasting every bit of him. His legs were shaking beneath him, and he caught Rab by the hair, pulling him back up to a kiss, even as he stumbled back two steps to collide with the wall. 

Rab grasped Bellamy’s wrists, pinning them on either side of his head, and his mouth ravished Bellamy’s, leaving him breathless and dizzily leaning against the wall. He grinned wolfishly at Bellamy, then his mouth began its downward journey again.

Bellamy’s head - already spinning - felt like it was rushing with blood as Rab not only kissed his way lower, but sank onto his knees before Bellamy. His broad, callused hands came to rest on Bellamy’s thighs, and he looked up, wickedness curling about his lips. He pressed his cheek to the front of Bellamy’s breeches, and Bellamy heard a thin, frail sound escape his own throat at the stab of want that struck low in his belly.

“Rab,” he groaned, reaching for Rab’s tousled hair. “You should not…”

Rab tilted his head like a hound demanding petting, even as one hand slid up and unfastened Bellamy’s breeches. “You’ll find, Bay,” he said, smirking, “I am a very disobedient man.”

When Rab’s mouth touched him, Bellamy almost cried out. His hands tightened into Rab’s hair and he knew he should push him back, stop him before he started, but instead, his hips moved greedily and his hands tensed and bunched in Rab’s hair.

Rab’s hands were on his thighs again, holding him fast and his mouth moved. He did things with tongue and teeth and lips that made Bellamy’s head spin, and it was all he could do to keep his feet, his fingers tugging and nudging at Rab’s head. His breath was heaving in his lungs and his shirt was rucking up against the rough wall of the house.

He was so lost in the rising tide of pleasure, that it was only pure self-preservation and outright terror which acknowledged the creak of the door. He caught Rab’s shoulders and shoved him back, pulling at his breeches, but when he looked to the door, his heart slammed against his ribs in horror at the sight of his father.

The Duke of Rutherglen was standing in the open doorway, his arms folded.

Rab scrambled up from the floor, and he was a white as Bellamy. “Master Jamie,” he stammered, all boldness lost in the face of his master. It was all Bellamy could do to step forward and clasp Rab’s shoulder.

“Stop snivelling, you fool,” he snapped. “You would think your master had never told you to do something that displeased you before.”

Rab looked at him, but Bellamy only looked at his father.

James Goldacre gestured out of the door. “Leave us, Rab,” he said abruptly.

“Master Jamie,” Rab started to argue.

“I said,” Bellamy’s father said quietly, “leave us.”

Bellamy looked at the floor, rather than meet Rab’s eyes, as the groundskeeper pulled on his boots and slipped out of the house. His heart was thundering painfully, and he felt quite sick with dread, for as much as he knew his father loved him, what he had done was commit one of the capital crimes. If it were known, the rope awaited him.

His father closed the door after Rab, sliding the bolts home.

“I will ask again,” he said, his voice strangely calm, “when you spent the night in the woods, was that all that happened?” Bellamy stared at his feet, shaking his head. “When did this… development occur?”

Bellamy swallowed around the lump in his throat. “That night,” he said, his hands trembling by his sides.

His father approached him, and caught Bellamy’s chin in his hand, lifting his face. Bellamy flinched, expecting to see contempt, disgust, but instead, his father looked only disappointed, saddened even. “And you did not trust me to know you?”

Bellamy’s lips trembled. “Father…”

“Bay,” his father said with such gentleness that Bellamy’s eyes stung with tears, “I have watched you grow from boy to man. I know you. Do you think I was oblivious to your proclivities?”

Bellamy’s chest felt tight with anxiety. “Father, I’m sorry.”

His father’s hand came to rest at the back of his neck, rubbing gently as he had when Bellamy was a child. “Sorry for what?” he asked quietly. “As I said, I know you, boy. I know you would not have acted on such impulses foolishly.”

“It is a sin,” Bellamy whispered, his mouth dry, his eyes wet. 

His father’s lips twitched ruefully. “Lud, my lad,” he murmured, “if I condemned you for one sin, then I would have to take account for my many.” He drew Bellamy’s brow down to rest against his. “Tell me the truth, Bay. Why him?”

Bellamy met his father’s eyes. “Why did you choose Isabelle?”

“Ah.”

They exchanged the faintest of smiles.

“At least,” his father said, squeezing the back of Bellamy’s neck gently, “my love will only bash me with a poker.” He released Bellamy and stepped back. “You know you will have to be careful, boy. Much more careful than you have been until now.”

Bellamy nodded, a little tremulously. “I did not know you suspected.”

“You teased my wife about her ribboned throat, yet you do not think I can put two and two together when you wear a high-collared shirt?” His father shook his head sternly. “My boy, if you think I am quite so slow, I am very much disappointed.”

Bellamy blushed deeply. 

“I must confess I am glad you will be in London for a time,” his father added. “I do not want to come between you and that which you love, but you must take some time and think about how best to approach this, if you insist on this affair.”

“Hardly an affair,” Bellamy mumbled, blushing even more. “An affair is between two who feel equally.”

“You did not see the way he looked at you, when you protected him so nobly,” his father said. “You all but put your head in a noose for the man. If he did not care so deeply before, be sure that he does now.” He clasped Bellamy by the shoulders. “You may have this night, but you must leave with the morning.”

Bellamy nodded again, lowering his eyes. “I am sorry, father,” he said quietly. “I will find a wife, give you heirs if you wish it.”

“I know, my lad,” his father said gently. “You need not think on it.” He squeezed Bellamy’s shoulders. “Now, I shall leave you. This time, be sure that when you are occupied, you make sure the door is locked.”

The Duke then turned and unlocked the door, striding from the house. If Rab tried to speak to him, Bellamy did not notice or hear, as he sank down on the chair by the hearth. It felt his heart was all but whirring in his chest, and the tension knotted around him was only just beginning to unravel. 

Rab slipped back into the house, closing the door behind him.

“Lock it,” Bellamy whispered hoarsely without looking up. He could barely even lift his head when Rab’s fingers stroked through his hair, gently, almost reverently. Bellamy licked his lips, took a shaking breath. “Father… knows now.” He tried to keep his voice steady. “He is not so angry as I imagined.”

Rab knelt at his feet, resting his hands on Bellamy’s knees. “He told me I am to take care of you,” he said. “If I let any harm befall you, I have no doubt I will be repaid in kind.”

Bellamy lifted his eyes to Rab’s. “If we are seen,” he said quietly, “if it is known, it could be the death of us. I would not have you put in danger, as much as I wish it.”

All at once, Rab knelt up and kissed him, his hands sliding to Bellamy’s waist. It was not so forceful as before, but even so, it took Bellamy’s breath away and his arms wrapped around Rab’s shoulders, pulling him closer.

“You are my randy little bastard,” Rab whispered heatedly against his lips. “If you think the threat of the noose is enough to drive me off, you’re an arsehole.”

Bellamy stared at him, then pulled Rab’s mouth back to his, kissing him bruisingly. “Then, if that is the case, finish what you started,” he hissed in challenge, catching one of Rab’s hands and pulling it to his still-unfastened breeches.

His breath caught as Rab’s hand wrapped about him, squeezing almost enough to hurt, but not quite, and he shuddered.

“That?” Rab said, his voice thickened with want.

“By God, yes,” Bellamy groaned as Rab’s hand moved in firm strokes about him, his thumb circling the very tip of Bellamy’s manhood. Matters only improved when Rab lowered his head and added his mouth, hot and wet, and a tongue that seemed to have the skill of the devil in it, curling about him and lapping greedily, as Rab’s hand slid down, still caressing.

One of Bellamy’s hands tangled in Rab’s hair, tugging encouragingly, even as his other clung desperately to the arm of the chair. He would have thrust greedily, if he had no care for Rab, but he did, and so, he restrained himself, and it was all the more pleasurable when Rab took him as deep as he wished in his mouth. His tongue swirled and Bellamy’s hips jumped rebelliously.

“By God…” he groaned again, trembling. His hand was bruising on the arm of the chair and he pressed his head against the back, his breathing ragged. Rab’s other hand slid up his chest, caressing, teasing across his skin and even up to caress his throat, his jaw, until Bellamy nipped and lapped at his fingers. It seemed unfair. Unfair that he was left out. He needed to feel something to, only fair. Rab seemed to agree, slipping two fingers between Bellamy’s lips, thrusting them as readily as Bellamy was thrusting against Rab’s mouth.

Bellamy moaned breathlessly as Rab moved his hand and mouth more purposefully, and the only thing that Bellamy could do was shift and press and lift his hips, and stammer out Rab’s name as it felt every drop of life in him flooded to the point where his body met Rab’s lips.

Rab’s hand tightened, squeezed, drawing every drop of him, and when he lifted his head, his eyes glittered. He drew his hand from Bellamy’s skin, smearing the drops of Bellamy’s completion from his chin with the back of his hand, the very sight of it making Bellamy’s heart thunder.

He leaned down without hesitation and kissed Rab greedily, tasting the salt of himself on the other man’s lips. Rab’s arms went around him and he was dragged down onto the floor. He might have protested being lain on his back, but when Rab leaned over him and Bellamy could feel just how much Rab wanted him too, any complaint was forgotten.

They both tugged and fought with his breeches until the were about his knees and Rab pushed Bellamy’s thighs up to press against his chest, bringing his own hips in firm contact with Bellamy’s bared thighs. He squeezed Bellamy’s thighs together with rough hands, rubbing the front of his coarse breeches against Bellamy’s pale skin, drawing pleasant shudders from him.

“Have at it,” Bellamy panted out, clasping himself by the back of his knees and pulling his legs hard against his chest. “Have me, Rab.”

The sound of Rab’s laces being undone would stay with him for days to come, and he bit down hard on his lip as Rab took him by the hip with one hand, and stroked himself some half dozen times with the other.

“It will hurt,” Rab warned, but Bellamy only nodded, arching his neck with a small, sharp cry, as Rab pushed into him. He went slow, and he went deep, and Bellamy was all but sobbing between panted groans.

The press of Rab’s chest to his thighs was delightful, no matter how his muscles ached at being stretched so, and Bellamy forced his eyes open to find Rab gazing down at him. He wished he could capture the look in the man’s eyes in paint, the heat, the want, and above all, the love.

Bellamy drew one hand from his limbs, to touch Rab’s hair. He could not have spoken, even if he wished to, and he nodded again, smiled as much as his trembling lips would allow, and let his body rock gently in incitement.

Rab’s breath hitched and his eyes pressed closed. His hands caught Bellamy’s hips sharply, and he started to move, and even though so recently spent, Bellamy’s body flooded with fresh desire. His head felt wondrous light, as if Rab had touched the very pleasure centre of him. 

It was not merely the need to spill his seed. This was something much deeper, and he gasped aloud as Rab stroked harder and hard against him, his breathing reduced to ragged grunts, his hands kneading at Bellamy’s hips. He pressed down suddenly, crushing Bellamy’s legs between them as he claimed Bellamy’s lips, his movements ragged and erratic, and his cry of satisfaction swallowed utterly by Bellamy.

They lay supine, limbs splayed in all manner of ways, breathless.

Rab lifted his head slowly, only once they could both breathe again. Bellamy ran a finger down the curve of his cheekbone, smiling smugly.

“I will need a cushion for the coach,” he murmured.

“Soft bugger,” Rab said with a chuckle. He braced his hands on either side of Bellamy’s shoulders and, with notable effort, pushed himself up, freeing Bellamy’s limbs. He slid free of Bellamy’s body, and Bellamy sprawled out with a groan on the floor.

“Lud,” he murmured, “I do not think I shall be able to walk until morning.”

“Damned shame,” Rab murmured, kneeling between his splayed limbs, still leaning over him. “Poor soft bugger. All worn out.”

Bellamy laughed faintly. “I do not know if you have looked down recently,” he murmured, “but your enthusiasm is more than a little encouraging.”

Rab eyed him, then glanced down his body. The smirk that crossed his lips earned a matching smirk from Bellamy. “Not so soft bugger then?” he said, and kissed Bellamy again.


End file.
